Dueling Club
by Alohaemora
Summary: Minerva McGonagall has had a difficult morning, and Gilderoy Lockhart is not making things easier.


8 November 1992

Minerva rubbed her eyes tiredly, leaning back in her favorite armchair in the staffroom and releasing a slow, deep breath. She had spent the majority of the night scouring the castle with Albus, but their efforts had been futile. The Chamber of Secrets and the beast it purportedly boasted were either extraordinarily elusive or nonexistent. It had been with a heavy heart that she had returned to her quarters, after two hours of fruitless searching. One of her own house had been petrified, and Minerva was no closer to discovering how it had happened than she was to joining Gilderoy Lockhart's fan club…

Yawning, Minerva glanced around the staffroom. It was unusually empty, given the time of day. The early mornings, in the wee hours before breakfast, tended to be the busiest hours in the staff quarters. But today, the room was unoccupied, apart from Minerva and Severus—who was hunched over a desk in the corner of the room, marking papers with a very surly expression on his face.

Minerva watched as he dipped his quill in red ink, scribbled something very ferociously on an essay, and then scrawled an enormous zero at the top of the parchment, before slamming the assignment onto the pile to his right. Then, suddenly, he looked up and caught her gaze from across the room, scowling.

"What is it?" he snapped.

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "You're in a charming mood," she said sardonically.

Severus's lip curled, as he turned back to his stack of essays. "You wouldn't be particularly pleased, either, if Gilderoy Lockhart almost knocked your office door down at six o'clock in the morning."

Minerva pressed her lips into a thin line. "What did he want?"

"The usual," Severus said sourly. "He wanted to give me _tips_ on brewing the perfect Mandrake Restorative Draught."

Minerva stared at him. "The man can barely cast a simple Unlocking Charm."

Severus's nostrils flared. "And yet, he claims to have saved an entire village from a rogue werewolf."

Minerva snorted. "You don't honestly believe that he has done any of the things he claims to have done, do you?" she asked. "I taught the boy Transfiguration for five years, and if I remember correctly, his biggest talent was spinning tales."

"Are you talking about Lockhart?"

Minerva and Severus looked around. Pomona had entered the staffroom, holding a stack of essays. She was closely followed by Filius.

"Yes," Minerva said dryly. "And I think the fact that you knew exactly who I was referring to speaks volumes."

Pomona shook her head, as she took a seat at the staff table. "I taught him, too," she said, in a tone of long-suffering, "And I don't think I've ever met a student who put more effort into styling his hair."

"But he was a smart chap," Filius chimed in, sitting down next to Pomona. "He achieved good marks, overall, I remember."

"Maybe so, Filius, but he also once carved his signature into the Quidditch pitch, and shot a hologram of his face into the sky during an Astronomy lesson," Pomona reminded him, rolling her eyes. She looked at Minerva. "Filius won't hear a word against a student of his house, no matter how foolish he or she grew up to be."

Minerva snorted with laughter, as Filius spluttered in indignation.

"That is completely untrue, Pomona," Filius reproached, frowning. "I'm not saying I particularly enjoy Gilderoy's company, but surely he must have done _something_ right to have been able to achieve the things he has. I mean, how many people can say they have banished a banshee, defeated a Yeti, _and_ saved a village from a werewolf?"

"Yes, Severus and I were discussing that, Filius," Minerva said, arching an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I simply cannot believe Lockhart could actually have performed those acts."

"But his books—!"

"You know, I'm starting to think Filius is a _fan_ ," Pomona interrupted in a carrying whisper, winking at Minerva, who smirked.

Filius flushed with color. "I most certainly am not!" he squeaked. "I just happen to have a friend from the village in New South Wales where Lockhart subdued the werewolf. I know for a fact that a werewolf was, in fact, found and defeated."

There was a silence, as the other three teachers contemplated this.

Then— "Just because the werewolf was defeated," Severus began slowly, "does not necessarily mean that Lockhart was responsible."

Filius piped up, "But if it was someone else, why has the witch or wizard not stepped forward? Why hasn't Gilderoy been denounced for dishonestly taking credit?"

Minerva frowned thoughtfully; Filius made a valid point.

"By the way, is it true, Minerva?" Pomona asked suddenly. "Has Colin Creevey really been petrified?"

Minerva sighed. "It's true," she said heavily. "Albus and I found him on the stairs last night."

"How awful," Pomona said miserably, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "That poor, sweet boy."

"I wrote to his parents this morning," Minerva said, swallowing. "They're Muggles—the way they'll see it, they've sent their son off to a castle so dangerous that he's managed to get himself seriously injured in just two months."

Pomona stared at her. "Minerva, if the Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again, I must say I quite agree—"

Suddenly, the door to the staffroom flew open, and Minerva had to resist a groan as Gilderoy Lockhart—sporting sweeping, resplendent robes of the gaudiest fuchsia—swept inside, beaming around.

"Good morning, my dearest colleagues!" he announced imperiously, as he strolled to the tea service near the back of the room. "How are you all on this fine day?"

Minerva clenched her teeth, exchanging a grim look with Pomona. Next to Pomona, Filius had suddenly become very interested in a fleck of lint on his robes. And in the far corner of the staffroom, Severus had returned to grading his essays, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Lockhart poured a cup of tea for himself, seemingly unperturbed by the stony silence his entrance had triggered.

"I have just been given some wonderful news from the headmaster himself," Lockhart said cheerfully, taking a sip of tea. "In light of the dreadful attack on dear Mr. Creevey, he has given me permission to establish a dueling club."

Severus dropped his quill. Filius's elbow slipped off of the edge of the staff table and hit the arm of his chair. Pomona let out a loud snort that she managed to disguise as a hacking cough, at the last minute.

Minerva stared at Lockhart in disbelief. "A dueling club?" she asked hollowly.

"Indeed," Lockhart declared, beaming. "A chance for the students to learn some proper defensive tactics, should they ever encounter whatever horror is causing these petrifications."

There was a stunned silence.

"And…and _you_ will be leading it?" Minerva asked, utterly dumbfounded. "Albus has given _you_ permission to lead the club?"

"He has," said Lockhart majestically, possibly mistaking her skepticism for awe. He set down his now-empty teacup and clapped his hands together. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get to my office. Much to do, much to plan!"

With a roguish grin and a wink, Lockhart swished out of the room in a flash of lurid pink.

The moment the door snapped shut behind him, Pomona swiveled around in her seat to face Minerva with an incredulous look on her face.

"You don't think he's actually serious, do you?"

Minerva was still staring at the door in astonishment. "I sincerely hope not."

Severus made a disparaging noise. They all turned to look at him.

"I have absolutely no trouble at all believing that the headmaster has given Lockhart the go-ahead," Severus said snidely. "It sounds precisely like the kind of preposterous thing he would do."

Pomona got to her feet and walked to the tea service, shaking her head. "But this is about more than just Lockhart," she said. "This is a matter of safety—do we really want this man demonstrating _dueling_ tactics to our students?"

"Perhaps he is an accomplished duelist," said Filius, though he looked very uncertain. "After all, to take down a werewolf, one must—"

"Filius," Minerva interrupted, rolling her eyes.

Pomona bit her lip, taking a sip of tea. "I hope Albus knows what he's doing."

"Come now, Pomona," Filius reasoned. "I have learned to trust the headmaster's actions, no matter how strange I find them. If he has given Lockhart permission to start this club, then he must think Lockhart is capable—"

"Filius, I'm fairly certain any one of us could crush Lockhart in a duel, even with our hands tied behind our back," Minerva said sharply.

"He is a fraud," Severus said vehemently. "Until I hear someone tell him, 'By the way, thank you for saving my life' with my own ears, I will not believe a single word—"

But he was cut off by a roaring _whoosh_ from the fireplace. All four of the professors looked around, just in time to see Albus Dumbledore emerge from the grate in a blaze of green, dusting off his robes.

"Good day, professors," Albus said cheerfully, smiling. Then, he frowned. "You all look very troubled."

"Albus, Lockhart has just told us that you have given him permission to institute a dueling club for the students," Minerva explained, without preamble.

Albus's blue eyes twinkled. "Ah, yes," he said amiably, taking a seat in the armchair opposite Minerva's. "He was very passionate about the idea."

The four professors stared at Albus.

Then, Minerva said bluntly, "Albus, I hope you realize what exactly you are risking by allowing this to happen."

Albus arched an eyebrow. "And what would that be, Minerva?"

Minerva shared an incredulous look with Pomona. "Albus…I simply can't see how it would bode well for Lockhart to instruct the students on dueling, when he is so—" she paused.

"—prone to error," Pomona put in wryly.

Albus smiled. "I understand your concern," he said lightly. "And I have already informed Gilderoy that under no circumstances will he be conducting the club on his own."

Minerva raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Do you mean to tell me, Headmaster, that you will be joining Lockhart in demonstrating dueling tactics?" Severus asked, smirking.

Pomona snorted into her tea. Minerva looked at Albus hopefully; it would be worth attending Lockhart's dueling lessons, simply to see the idiotic man receive his comeuppance from the headmaster, himself.

"Certainly not, Severus," Albus said brightly. "I have told Professor Lockhart that, as a Defense Against the Dark Arts enthusiast yourself, _you_ would be delighted to assist him with his endeavor."

This appeared to be too much for Pomona, who choked on her tea and burst into a fit of silent laughter. Filius was shaking his head in amusement. And even Minerva couldn't quite resist a chuckle, at the sight of the horrified, murderous expression on Severus's face.

* * *

Author's Note:

HAH. Of all of the DADA professors Harry had, Lockhart was definitely one of the most-hated by the staff. I'll give him second place; Umbridge takes the cake.

Also, I feel like Albus must go out of his way to mess with Severus lol

This was again for the Cinema Competition. The prompt was Beauty and the Beast. I had to write about someone who is not who they seem to be (Lockhart). Alternatively, I could write about an enchanted castle (I sort of did, with the Chamber of Secrets). And my optional quote was: "By the way, thank you for saving my life." Snape nailed it.

Hope you enjoyed! Drop me a line. :)

Ari


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